


Not Like Most People

by mygreatestjoyandprivilege



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Breakfast Club AU, Breakfast Club crossover, Drug Abuse, John is cuddly but also an incredibly horny teenage boy questioning his sexuality, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Past Drug Use, Punk Sherlock, Rugby John, Sherlock Holmes and Drug Use, Sherlock is a sarcastic little shit and I love him for it, Teenlock, bad boy Sherlock, but really he's just a sad moody teenager, cute sloppy teenage kisses, exchangelock fic, he thinks he's such a badass, how do tag, lots of teenage angst, teenage years before uni, they can't control their hormones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 14:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1945173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mygreatestjoyandprivilege/pseuds/mygreatestjoyandprivilege
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five students at Conan Doyle Secondary School and College find themselves sentenced to a dreaded Saturday detention session. Sally Donovan, the popular and spoiled daddy's little girl; Phillip Anderson, resident geek and all around nerd; Molly Hooper, the quiet shy brunette; John Watson, the captain of the rugby team; and Sherlock Holmes, dangerous bad boy who can tear anyone apart with one cold-hearted deduction and those piercing blue eyes. </p><p>Together, they make up the Conan Doyle Breakfast Club, and form a series of unlikely friendships. John Watson realizes there is more to Sherlock Holmes than the hard exterior he tries to convince everyone to believe, and Sherlock finds that he's been looking for someone like John for a long time. He just didn't know it until he got Saturday detention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Like Most People

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mrshudsontookmyskull](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=mrshudsontookmyskull).



> (sorry I have lots of notes oops)
> 
> This fic is my gift to mrshudsontookmyskull for the 2014 AU exchange (through exchangelock.tumblr.com). Out of the many preferences my giftee had, I chose teenlock for my AU. I'm not sure if a Breakfast Club inspired crossover/AU has been done before, but this is my attempt at it. I didn't mean for it to end up to be so long, but it just sort of happened anyway! I hope you enjoy it, because I had a lot of fun writing it!
> 
> Also, just in case anyone hasn't seen the movie The Breakfast Club, which is the inspiration for this fic (but you all should watch it because it is a classic 80's movie and who doesn't love John Hughes movies, right?) here's a quick summary of the plot: five students that are all each a stereotype found in a typical American high school (a brain, a princess, a jock, a basket case, and a criminal) all get Saturday detention. They are told to write an essay to explain why what they did was wrong as a punishment, and in the end they all become an odd group of friends as they talk out their problems with one another. They defy their stereotypes, get into mischief and thus form "The Breakfast Club," changing their lives for the better. My fic basically sticks to that same plot, or that idea anyway.
> 
> Also, just some points of clarification: I am an American, so I apologize in advance for any errors regarding the English school system before university or using the wrong slang words. I combined the school they all go to as both a secondary school and a college, so it has students from about age 12 to age 18, right before they go to university. Sherlock is 17 in this fic and John is 18. Sally and Phillip are in John's year, and Molly is Sherlock's age. All five of them are thus in the two year long "college" part of the school system, taking their A Level exams before they go to university. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy your exchangelock gift and that it met your expectations! Definitely tell me what you think of it (and hopefully it's not too long haha) and read away! Everyone else enjoy as well!

The whole thing was absolutely ridiculous and unfair.

John and his fellow rugby teammates had always messed around with some of the smaller underclassmen; it was just tradition. They never did anything too awful, and half the time John didn’t even participate in giving a poor seventh year a wedgie or hiding his clothes after practice, even as captain of the team. As a student just about to finish his last year of A Levels and go off to university, John felt like he was more mature than some of his teammates, since only five others were in his grade. He had his fun in his earlier secondary school years playfully bullying some of the smaller kids, but now it seemed rather childish for him to partake in such activities.

So of course the one time he gave in to some of his best mates pressuring him to pull a prank on one of those tiny unsuspecting thirteen year-olds, he got caught. Not only that, but he was the only one to get caught, and was then sentenced to dreaded Saturday detention.

In his last semester of official public schooling before attending university, John thought he was actually going to get away with not serving one of those detention sessions. But he was wrong. He had managed to get by with an almost squeaky-clean record until this very moment.

And of all the things to get Saturday detention for, it was for shoving an eighth year boy into a gym locker right as his coach happened to be walking by. His two friends that had pushed him to do it in the first place had managed to make it look like they weren’t involved at all and walked free, but John unfortunately had his hands on the young boy and was beginning to shut the door when he heard a “Watson!” bellowed from across the locker room.

So now here he was, sitting in the car with Harry on a Saturday morning and prolonging his stay in the warm vehicle as long as possible to avoid going inside the building any sooner than he had to.

“Dad’s going to kill you when he finds out about this after he gets back from Germany,” his sister said to him, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. Two years his senior, his older sister Harry finished college with very few A Levels and no plans of university, instead choosing to stay home for a few years and work until she found something better to do. Every day she nagged at him like this, John found himself hoping that day would come sooner rather than later. He could do without Harry’s monotone voice ragging on him constantly for the most mundane things.

Saturday detention and the disappointment he ultimately was to his father because of it were almost like Christmas presents for Harry; there was no end to the things she could bring up to degrade him for in this instance.

“That’s not helpful, you know,” he replied bitterly, staring out the window at the school’s entrance as the ancient engine of the family car rumbled as it sat idly at the curb.

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have done something so stupid to get yourself in this situation in the first place, Johnny. Honestly, you’re such a clot sometimes.” John shot Harry a look and she just shrugged, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from her jacket.

John sighed. “Think I don’t know that already? It’s a little late for that. I just want to get this over with, honestly.”

“The longer you sit in this car, the longer that will take,” Harry said matter-of-factly as she lit a cigarette, and John rolled his eyes at how annoyingly obvious she was being.

“Always so supportive, sis,” he said sarcastically, gathering his jacket and sack lunch in one hand before finally reaching for the door handle.

“Anytime. See you at three!” she shouted at his back as he slammed the door behind him.

*  *  *

As John walked towards the front entrance of Conan Doyle Secondary School and College, he saw a familiar face walking a few steps ahead.

“Sally!” he shouted, and a head of wild curls turned towards him as she placed her hand on the door.

“Oh hi John!” Sally replied, a wide grin spreading across her face as John approached.

He grinned back. “And what exactly did Miss Perfect do to get the honor of attending Saturday detention?”

Sally laughed and opened the door, stepping through it first before holding it open for John. “Oh, I got caught cheating off of some nerd’s test. He told me I could copy him but I couldn’t see very well and then Mrs. Morstan caught me even though I was trying to be discreet…oops. But at least he got in trouble with me too and will be joining us in detention today.”

John shook his head as they walked down the hallway towards the library. “Who was this nerd? And I’m disappointed in you, Sally. I thought you were a good, honest student. How could you stoop to such a level as cheating to get answers on a test?” He placed a hand on his heart and looked offended, furrowing his eyebrows and shaking his head at Sally as if he was in total disbelief of her actions.

She laughed again, hitting his arm playfully. “Hey, I never said those good grades came with good morals, now did I? And it was Phillip Anderson. I’m not sure how well he’ll handle such a hit to his GPA with the zeroes we both got on that exam, but he should have known what he was getting into.” She paused, turning her head to John again. “And what did you do to get in here, Mr. Captain of the rugby team?”

John sighed. “Shoved a year 8 boy into a locker and then threw his clothes in the showers after practice…and I didn’t even want to do it, I just did it to humor my mates, honestly. It was just unlucky that our coach was walking by right as it was happening.”

Sally made a face. “That’s awful. Just bad luck for both of us, I suppose. Well, hopefully it will all go by quickly. I have shopping to do for the winter formal.”

John nodded in response as they approached the doors to the library, where he held the door open for Sally before stepping through himself.

They met the assistant headmaster, Mr. Lestrade, at the information desk.

“Welcome to Saturday detention,” he said in an unenthused voice. “Sit down with at least one desk space between you. No talking, no homework, no studying, no eating until lunchtime. Just sit and stay quiet.” He gestured to the rows of desks in the middle of the library, where Phillip Anderson was already sitting in the front row. He scowled at Sally as she walked by and she simply smiled sweetly at him before sitting in the row behind him.

John walked through the middle aisle and sat in the second row back and right across the way from Sally, dropping his lunch on the desk and draping his jacket over the back of his chair. He sat down with a loud sigh and slouched down in his seat, crossing his arms and looking as miserable as possible.

A minute later, the mousy, quiet brunette girl John thought he remembered being called Molly Hooper walked into the room. She met John’s eyes for a moment then quickly looked back down at her shoes, hastily sitting down a few rows behind him.

The four students sat in silence, Mr. Lestrade flipping through a magazine and periodically looking up at the clock while standing at the front of the room and leaning against a wooden podium.

At a minute to 9am, when the detention session was supposed to officially start, everyone practically jumped out of their chairs at the loud bang that followed one of the doors to the library being slammed open unceremoniously.

Mr. Lestrade glared at the tall, lanky boy that entered the room. “Mr. Holmes, so nice to see you again,” Lestrade said sarcastically. “I believe you are creating your own personal school record for most Saturday detentions served in one school year.”

“I do try,” the boy replied, bowing theatrically.

“Sit down, Sherlock,” Lestrade replied, rolling his eyes and pointing to the rows of desks with his rolled up magazine.

Sherlock smirked and turned to walk down the center aisle. He wore black skinny jeans that were ripped at the knees, dark blue Converse, a white t-shirt, black fingerless gloves, and a long black coat that flew out behind him like a cape when he walked. He had a tangle of short dark curls and the most piercing blue eyes John had ever seen. He had heard the rumors and stories about this strange boy who was one year his junior, but he had never actually seen the seventeen year old himself. He was everything those rumors had said he would be and more, at least visually speaking.

John didn’t realize he was staring slightly open-mouthed at Sherlock until the boy turned his head to him as he walked past and winked at him while still smirking, running his hands across the desks as he went. John flushed slightly and looked away quickly, observing a particularly interesting chip in his desk. He heard Sherlock finally sit down in the row directly behind him but a few desks to the right of where John was sitting. John resisted the urge to turn and look at the younger student and hoped the tips of his ears weren’t reddening noticeably to anyone but himself.

“Now…” Mr. Lestrade began, placing his hands on his hips and surveying the room. John turned his head to him, thankful for a distraction.

Lestrade cleared his throat before continuing. “All of you are here because you have made a mistake. Stupid mistakes. Some of you may not have learned from those mistakes quite yet…” he made a point to turn his head to Sherlock, and John heard the boy snort behind him. “…but that’s alright. The point of this is for all of you to learn from those mistakes, and to not make them again. To help with that, I’m going to do something a little different for this detention session. All of you are going to write me an essay, of at least 2000 words, where you will explain to me what it is that you did and how you will learn from it in the future.”

Audible groans were heard throughout the desks, John included. The man couldn’t be serious. As if being at school on a Saturday wasn’t bad enough already.

“I’m not trying to be the bad guy here, kids. I’m just trying to help you learn. Now you will all write your essays in silence, without speaking to each other or helping each other in any way, and you will stay seated unless told otherwise. Don’t sit next to each other, don’t eat until your designated lunchtime, and don’t wander. Believe me, I want to be here as much as you do, and I’m hoping the time flies by just as much. I’ll be in the office across the hall and will check in on you occasionally. Follow my rules or expect another Saturday wasted next week. Is that clear?”

John sighed and nodded, watching as all of the other heads bobbed around him.

“I want to hear a ‘yes, sir’ from everyone,” Lestrade added, crossing his arms.

“Yes sir,” they all said in unison.

“Don’t you try anything,” Lestrade said, pointing over John’s shoulder at Sherlock.

“Who, me?” replied Sherlock innocently, pointing to himself.

“Yes, you. I’ll be watching you especially closely, Holmes.”

“What an honor. I look forward to it, Greg!”

“Don’t get smart with me, young man. And don’t call me Greg.”

“Yes sir,” Sherlock said sarcastically, and John turned his head to see Sherlock doing a mock soldier salute at Lestrade, smiling sweetly.

Lestrade uncrossed his arms and shook his head, turning to the podium and sighing. “Pass around these pens and paper,” he said as he handed a stack of notebook paper and a bundle of pens to Anderson.

Once everyone had their pens and paper—and John had willed his hands not to tremble as he turned around to accept the supplies from Sherlock’s slender fingers—Lestrade surveyed the room once more, apparently satisfied. “Like I said, I’ll be in my office. Have fun, kids.”

*  *  *

Some time passed before anyone spoke, only the quiet shuffling sounds of paper on desks or bodies shifting in chairs filling the room. John stared down at the blank lines of notebook paper in front of him, tapping the tip of his pen lightly against the small stack of pages. He exhaled, glanced up at the clock to check the time, then looked down at the paper again as he tried to convince his brain to come up with something somewhat intelligent to write for this stupid essay. He repeatedly looked up at the clock, his heart sinking each time to realize that only a few minutes had passed rather than hours.

Everything about this was stupid, just plain stupid. John found himself growing more and more irritable by the minute, so irked by his Saturday essay punishment that he wasn’t even paying attention to the other four students around him. All he cared about was getting through the day without getting in any trouble and writing an essay so fantastic that Lestrade erased all evidence of this detention session from his records.

John was so absorbed in his own thoughts and inner turmoil as he stared out into space that he nearly fell out of his chair when he heard Sherlock’s low baritone voice behind him say loudly, “Is anyone else having fun yet?”

Phillip and Sally turned their heads back to look at him but then turned back to their essays without saying a word. John allowed himself a quick glance to the right at Sherlock but didn’t speak either.

Sherlock groaned dramatically. “Oh come on, no one’s going to say a word this entire day? Do you honestly think you can all survive the ruthless torture and boredom that is Saturday detention without speaking to each other? I’d like to see you try.”

Sally turned her head to look back at Sherlock, rolling her eyes. “If we do speak, it’s certainly not going to be to _you_.”

“Well I must say that a conversation with you has to be incredibly stimulating, Miss Donovan. I wouldn’t want to miss out on that. Say, why don’t we compare essays when we’re finished to make sure we have the right answers? Oh wait, I’m sorry, I forgot: that’s what Phillip over there is for. Wouldn’t want to get in the middle of such great teamwork, now would I?”

“Shut up! That’s not funny!” Anderson piped up, turning his head around to glare back at Sherlock.

Sherlock sighed and leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on the desk and his hands behind his head. “You’re right, there’s nothing funny about daddy’s little girl using her looks and charm to convince a geek to give her test answers so she can keep impressing her father with her good grades and be granted his credit card for endless weekend shopping sprees. It might be because her parents are getting a divorce and she wants to keep convincing her father that everything is alright, that she’s still going to attend a decent university with her top-notch grades that will of course earn her some quality A Levels, but it also might be because she’s a heartless, manipulative bitch willing to do anything it takes to get what she wants when she wants it. Frankly, I’d put my money on the latter assumption.” He paused to take a breath and shot a sly smile at Sally, who was staring at Sherlock in shock.

“Nor is it funny that said geek only agreed to help her cheat because he has been completely infatuated with that perfect princess since primary school and is hoping he can score a date to the winter formal dance if he can convince her he’s not only smart but a ‘good guy.’ Call it insecurity because he hasn’t even kissed a girl yet and just wants to be noticed for once in his life rather than being shoved in the hallways on a day to day basis and having his glasses stolen weekly, but I wouldn’t say it’s desperation, as he really is trying his best given the circumstances. He is president of the chess club and the physics association, after all, and balancing both a rigorous academic load and a highly stimulating social life in addition to satisfying extracurricular activities must be difficult for such a student like him.”

Anderson blushed furiously, his mouth opening slightly as he stared back at Sherlock, dumbfounded. “That’s—you—you’re awful!” he stammered before turning back to face the front of the room, slouching in his chair and hunching over his essay. He began to write madly on the paper. John could see that the tips of his ears and back of his neck were both flushed red with embarrassment.

Instead of retorting, Sally just shook her head, throwing her hands up in the air as if at a loss for words. She turned her head to Sherlock and flipped him off then said coldly, “You just proved my point. You’re not even worth my time. _Freak_.”

Sherlock chuckled and sat back in his chair, tilting his head up to the ceiling. “Oh Sally, dear, how you hurt me so with your harsh words. I’m devastated.”

Sally made a noise of distaste then turned back to her desk to continue on her essay.

A few more minutes of silence passed and John turned his attention back to his blank sheet of paper.

“Hey Molly, how’s your cat? Edward, right?” Sherlock said quietly, turning in his chair to face the quiet girl two rows behind him.

Molly’s eyes widened, her face turning an alarming shade of red, and she made a small almost squeaking sound before hunching over her essay and furiously beginning to scribble her pen across the paper.

“Lovely, now you’re turning against me too?” He sighed when she didn’t respond to him and tilted his head back again, exhaling deeply. “Why does everything have to be so bloody boring? I’m so so _so bored_ …BORED.” Sherlock dramatically collapsed himself forward onto the desk, resting his forehead against it and groaning face-down into the wood.

John cracked a small smile at this ridiculous boy and his erratic behavior. Truthfully, he felt just as bored as Sherlock, he just wasn’t choosing to voice it as enthusiastically. Apparently this boy was never afraid to say whatever was on his mind, however.

John heard a noise directly behind him and turned, startled to see Sherlock’s impossibly blue eyes staring back at him from the desk right behind him.

“Hey, Captain,” Sherlock whispered, leaning forward on his elbows and dangerously close to John’s face. Even if he didn’t intend for it to sound seductive, it did, and John shivered slightly, forgetting how to breathe momentarily.

“Erm, hi?” John finally choked out, unable to stop staring into those gorgeous eyes. It came out as more of a question than a response. He let out a nervous laugh.

Sherlock smirked, clearly recognizing the effect he was having on John. “John Watson, correct? I’m Sherlock Holmes. I don’t believe we’ve met officially.” He extended a hand to John, flashing him a dazzling smile as he did so.

After a moment of hesitation, John accepted Sherlock’s hand and gingerly shook it, releasing as quickly as possible and drawing his hand away again. “How did you—” he began, and Sherlock interrupted him.

“Please, you’ve heard the rumors about me, I’m sure. I know practically everything there is to know about everyone and everything that happens at this horrid school. When you dress the way I do and don’t even try to get high marks in every class yet succeed effortlessly anyway, you’re bound to become an outsider. And as an outsider, I see things others don’t see. I don’t just simply know, I notice. I’m constantly observing; little happens here that passes me by.” He flashed John another toothy grin, resting his chin on his palm as he propped his elbow up on the desk and leaned in closer.

For the first time John noticed that Sherlock had two small silver stud piercings in his earlobes and an additional three piercings to the cartilage on his left ear. When he moved his head in the light, John thought he saw a glint of a small diamond piercing above his right eyebrow as well. On anyone else it would look strange for a seventeen year old boy to have so many piercings, but Sherlock managed to make it look sexy. John kicked himself mentally for thinking anything about this boy was sexy; he didn’t have time for this, and from what he heard about Sherlock, having a crush on him was like a death sentence.

Sherlock was right; of course John had heard the rumors. It was impossible not to. Sherlock Holmes was one of the most intelligent students at their school and was essentially already qualified to attend university despite being in only his first year of A Level exams. Not only was he brilliant, but he stood out by the way he could tell which students were sleeping with whom by just one look and had a reputation for it. He made cold-hearted deductions about teachers when he got annoyed with them in classes and had probably spent more time in detention and the headmaster’s office than any other student. He was arrogant, brilliant, and absolutely gorgeous, even with the sloppy, punk-rock-bordering-on-grunge-like way he dressed himself.

Any girl brave enough to ask him to a school dance was immediately turned down ruthlessly with a long list of reasons why he couldn’t possibly participate in such a ridiculous social practice that usually ended with the poor girl running down the hallway in tears. Just the way he walked screamed confidence and his dangerous, mysterious and unattainable nature just made him seem that much sexier.

John had been in the process of privately questioning his sexuality in the past year, debating whether or not he considered himself to be bisexual. He had never dated a boy before and had gained quite the reputation as a ladies man after losing his virginity to the captain of the gymnastics team in his last year of secondary school. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t noticed how attractive some of his rugby teammates were, or that he hadn’t thought about what it would be like to kiss a bloke. He was curious and often couldn’t deny his attraction to his own sex, particularly when his hormones struck just the right chord.

But despite his uncertainty in this area, John knew that he was attracted to Sherlock Holmes the minute that boy had walked into the room. Whether he was bisexual, gay, straight, or something else, he could imagine tangling his hands in those dark curly locks and absolutely ravishing his lean, slender frame the instant he had laid eyes on him. He hadn’t had such extreme urges for a long time, and the almost instant hardness he had felt between his legs when Sherlock had whispered those first words to him had John shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he tried to think of anything else but what Sherlock’s lips would feel like against his own. He also thought the room had suddenly become significantly warmer with Sherlock’s presence.

Maybe he was so suddenly smitten by Sherlock because he liked his give-no-fucks attitude. Maybe it was because his arse looked great in those dark skinny jeans. Maybe it was because he had felt this inexplicable pull towards him that wasn’t necessarily sexual or romantic, but just full of absolute _want_. Maybe it was just his teenage hormones talking, but John wanted Sherlock Holmes in every possible way, even if they had just met barely an hour before. Needless to say, he was intrigued by him and because of this he willed himself to get a grip so he could at least have a coherent conversation with the man.

“Shouldn’t you be writing your essay like everyone else?” John said hesitantly after a moment.

Sherlock threw his head back and laughed. John swallowed as he looked at his slender, pale neck and immediately pushed all thoughts of his mouth leaving bruises all over that neck from his mind.

“You’re funny, John. I think we both know the answer to that question. Short answer: that essay clearly isn’t worth my time or energy, especially if I’m going to be spending almost every Saturday for the rest of the year here.”

“Christ, what did you do to earn all that?” John blurted before he could stop himself.

Sherlock simply laughed again and shrugged casually. “Oh, I’ve lost track at this point. Last week it was for telling off Mr. Dimmock in my physics lecture because he was quoting Stephen Hawking’s theories so entirely wrong it was just shameful. The week before it was for smoking under the bleachers while skipping class, which frankly I’m surprised they hadn’t caught me doing months ago; this administration really is getting a bit slow if you ask me. And this week I believe it’s for blowing up an experiment in the chemistry lab that was unauthorized by a staff member. Oops.” He sighed and leaned back into his chair, slouching down a little. He bit his lower lip for a moment in thought. “I don’t think I’m booked for next week quite yet, but I’m sure Lestrade will think of something this week. What can I say, I can’t seem to keep myself out of trouble!” he finished sarcastically, grinning at John.

John let out a little laugh and shook his head. “You’re…you’re ridiculous. And possibly a bit mad. I never expected those rumors to actually have any truth to them.”

Sherlock chuckled, examining his fingernails carefully—which John had just noticed were painted black—picking at some of the chipped polish. “I believe you meant that as a compliment, so thank you, _John_.” He emphasized John’s name, flicking his icy eyes up and holding John’s gaze for a moment longer than necessary.

John swallowed and averted his eyes nervously after a moment, unable to hold Sherlock’s gaze in return. “Um, well, it was nice talking to you, but…um, I should really work on my essay. Haven’t started it quite yet,” he said sheepishly, still avoiding eye contact.

Sherlock smirked and stood up from his chair, moving back down the row towards his original seat. “Suit yourself,” he replied in a low voice, and John focused on slowing his heart beat down to a normal rhythm as he turned back to his blank sheet of paper.

After a moment, he glanced up to see Sally looking at him from across the aisle, her mouth open slightly and a _what-the-fuck_ expression on her face. John just shrugged then looked away from her, rolling his shoulders before uncapping his pen and finally starting to write his first sentence.

*  *  *

About a half hour later, Lestrade came into the room to do his first check on them, finding everyone but Sherlock hunched over their desks writing. Sherlock was leaning back in his chair with his feet up on the chair next to him, tossing a balled up piece of notebook paper into the air and catching it over and over again. Instead of scolding him, Lestrade just glared and made an “I’m watching you” gesture to the boy, to which Sherlock smiled guiltlessly at, before he rolled his eyes and walked out of the room, shaking his head.

About an hour after that, John was actually well into his essay and had almost forgotten that Sherlock was sitting in the row behind him when he heard Sherlock say softly almost right next to his right ear, “So when did you injure your left shoulder? Was it in a recent rugby match?”

“Jesus!” John exclaimed involuntarily, nearly jumping a foot out of his seat. He whipped his head around to face Sherlock, who was now sitting normally in the seat directly behind him, clasping his hands on top of the desk and looking innocently at John. “Don’t do that! And how did you even know that my shoulder was injured?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “My, you are slower than I thought.” He sighed and shook his head at John as if it was obvious. “You keep shifting it uncomfortably every few minutes, and every time you turn around to talk to me, it’s usually to the right, presumably because it stings a bit to turn the other direction with your injury. Dislocation, yes?”

John shook his head in disbelief and sighed. Why this had any interest for Sherlock he didn’t know. “Yeah, I got tackled wrong at a match last semester. Hurt like hell and still hurts occasionally, especially around the times when the seasons are changing, like now. I didn’t realize I was shifting it so often, though. It must be an unconscious movement at this point.”

“Indeed,” Sherlock replied, nodding thoughtfully.

“Will you just leave John alone so we can all just finish our essays? Just because you aren’t going to do yours doesn’t mean you have to distract the rest of us,” Sally called from across the aisle, the irritated tone in her voice unmistakable.

Sherlock smirked, turning his head to Sally. “I think John is mature enough to make his own decisions, Sally. He can speak for himself.”

John sighed and shook his head, turning back to his essay and away from Sherlock. “Just let it go,” he said to Sally, exasperated. He really did just want to finish his essay, and although Sherlock was distracting him, he really didn’t mind all that much.

“John, he’s being a prick and you know it!” she snapped, shocked that John wasn’t taking her side.

John pressed his pen back down onto his paper and replied without looking up, “I said just let it go, Sally. If we’re going to be stuck here together all day, we might as well make an effort to be civil to each other.”

He kept writing his essay and didn’t see the haughty look Sherlock gave Sally before she turned back to her own essay once more.

Some time passed before Sherlock couldn’t take his boredom anymore. At this point, John was reaching the conclusion of his essay, knowing it was not his best but would have to do for what he was willing to write on a Saturday in detention. As he finished what he thought was a particularly brilliant sentence, a small paper crane landed on his desk to his right, a tiny folded piece of paper sticking out between its wings.

John bit his lip, smiling a little despite himself, and pulled out the paper, unfolding it to read the note that said: _I’m so horribly bored that I’ve resorted to origami. Paper cranes, John. I think I’m slowly losing my mind in this awful place. But this is for you. Because you’re the least boring person here. –SH_

John smiled again and suppressed a laugh in his throat, turning his head to the right to see Sherlock casually folding another piece of notebook paper. He looked up and grinned at John, giving him a little wink. John grinned back and shook his head before pushing the crane aside and continuing to write, although much more distracted now.

A while later, Lestrade returned to the room and announced that they were all allowed an hour lunch break, then left the room again.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Sherlock stood up from his chair. “I think I’m up for a change of scenery for our lunch break. Would anyone care to join me on the second floor? There’s a great little place that overlooks the whole library.”

Without waiting for a response, he walked down the center aisle towards the staircase at the back of the room, apparently expecting someone to follow. John hesitated for a moment, looking first back at Molly, who was just watching Sherlock walk away, and then over at Sally and Phillip, who were both rolling their eyes and taking out their lunches without paying Sherlock any attention. After a few more seconds, John finally stood up and quickly edged his way down the row and to the center aisle, ignoring the dirty look Sally gave him from her seat.

“Lestrade won’t be back until after lunch,” he said to her as he walked past, shrugging. He then jogged to catch up with Sherlock, who was already ascending the staircase.

*  *  *

John continued to follow closely behind Sherlock without looking behind him; it was obvious no one else was going to follow anyway. After he followed Sherlock quickly through a maze of shelves for a minute or so, they finally reached a small clearing that John had never known existed in the library.

It was an area large enough for a small group of people to sit on the ground, shaped in a semi-circle with a pile of floor pillows stacked at the head of it. The railing that matched the railing that led up the staircase had bars just big enough that one could dangle a leg or arm through the spaces. The whole little alcove overlooked most of the library, and John could see the other three students still sitting at their desks as he looked down and slightly to the left. If he shouted a little, they would probably be able to hear him.

Just as this thought was occurring to John as he looked over the edge of the metal railing, Sherlock stepped to the right of him, cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted, “There’s still room for you if anyone changes their mind!”

John snorted as he watched all three heads down below turn up and to the right in the direction of the sound. He shrugged apologetically, unsure if they could actually see him do it, and waved to them all. Without waiting for a response, Sherlock turned to the pile of floor pillows and threw one onto the ground at his feet, proceeding to collapse onto it dramatically, folding his legs beneath himself and looking up at John. He gave him a small smile then gestured to the pillows, and John took one then sat down on it directly across from Sherlock, crossing his legs beneath himself and mirroring Sherlock’s position.

Halfway through eating his sandwich, John realized that Sherlock wasn’t eating anything. He was just sitting on the pillow, his mobile in his hands as he tapped on it distractedly. “Aren’t you going to eat something?” John said through a mouthful of ham sandwich.

Sherlock’s eyes flicked up to John’s. “Eating is boring. I ate yesterday.”

John furrowed his eyebrows and swallowed the bite he was currently chewing. “Do you not have any food? You can have some of mine, if you’d like. Do you like crisps?” He turned to dig in his paper lunch bag and pulled out an unopened package of crisps, offering them to Sherlock.

Sherlock eyed the bag warily, the mobile still held in both his hands. “Thank you but no. I’m fine.”

John shrugged and opened the crisps himself, letting the matter drop. This boy was obviously eccentric and he wasn’t going to start questioning his eating habits. They sat in silence for a few minutes as John continued to eat his lunch and Sherlock tapped on his mobile without glancing up at him even once.

John was almost finished eating by the time he felt like breaking the silence. “You know, I’ve been a student here for years and I never even knew this part of the library existed. It’s neat. Like a little hiding place.”

Sherlock didn’t look up when he responded. “Yes, that’s exactly what it is. I started spending time here when I was in year 7, to escape some kids who liked to bully me. The librarian, Mrs. Hudson, took a liking to me, especially because I helped her re-stock the shelves after school. She’s the one who allowed me to have these pillows up here in the first place. Not many people have spent enough time here like I have to know this place exists.”

John nodded thoughtfully, looking around at the space. “So I take it you don’t have many friends, then?” he offered hesitantly, unsure if it was a sensitive subject.

Sherlock snorted as he clicked off his mobile and stowed it away in the pocket of his jeans. “John, you need to stop asking questions you clearly already know the answer to. No, I don’t have friends. It’s not that hard to believe.” He turned to the right slightly as he shrugged off his long coat, tossing it to the side of him. John tried not to notice how lean yet muscular Sherlock appeared to be, especially with the white short sleeved t-shirt he was wearing that hugged his slender frame tightly, the muscles in his arms and chest shifting beneath the material at his movements.

“No friends at all? Not even one person, in this entire school?” John asked, legitimately shocked. Sherlock was strange and John admitted he could probably scare off most people without trying very hard, but he found it hard to believe that he didn’t have at least one confidant. Everyone had friends, even kids who were bullied.

Sherlock just looked at John for a moment without speaking. “Nope,” he said finally, not breaking eye contact. After another few seconds, he finally looked away, staring out at the library before them.

“Well…” John began, choosing his words carefully. “Erm, I…I could be your friend…if you want.”

Sherlock whipped his head back to John and looked at him for a long time, a puzzled look forming on his face. It looked like he was trying to decide if John was kidding or not. “You? That’s kind of you to offer John, but I don’t think so. Trust me, you don’t want to be friends with me. There are good reasons why people steer clear of me.”

“Okay, you’re a little weird, yeah, but you’re likeable. A slightly obnoxious smartass, yes. But you’re really not that much of an asshole. Everyone just seems to think that you are.” John sighed, not sure why he was so invested in this all of a sudden. “Look, it’s just not right for you not to have friends. Everyone has friends,” John said, smiling weakly at Sherlock.

Sherlock laughed humorlessly, adjusting on the pillow so that one knee was raised in front of him. He rested his wrist on his knee and leaned back into the railing, exhaling. “Not me,” he replied flatly.

John shook his head, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Being a teenager is shitty enough without having a friend or two to help you through it all. No one deserves to be alone like that. It’s just…not good. Not fair.”

Sherlock simply stared at him. John shifted uncomfortably on his pillow, shrugging nonchalantly, as if he didn’t think it was a big deal.

It was at least a full minute before Sherlock spoke, and John jumped slightly in surprise, finally making eye contact again after avoiding his piercing gaze. “Thank you,” Sherlock said softly. “That…that means a lot. Um, yes. Yes, I would like it if you were my friend, John Watson.”

John smiled and leaned forward, outstretching his hand to Sherlock. “You’ve got a deal, Sherlock Holmes.” Sherlock grinned widely as he shook John’s hand in response.

When they sat in silence again for a minute or two, another thought occurred to John and he couldn’t resist asking. He cleared his throat and crumpled up his trash into a ball as he asked casually, “Do you have a girlfriend, then?”

He was met by such a look of distaste on Sherlock’s face at the suggestion that he laughed and amended his question. “A boyfriend, then? Which is fine, by the way. It’s all…fine.” He then cleared his throat and looked away, licking his lips and realizing what he had basically implied and kicking himself mentally for even asking in the first place.

Sherlock was simply smirking at him, watching John shift uncomfortably. “No, I don’t. Have either, that is. I just told you I don’t have friends, John. Why would you think anyone would want to date me?” He paused and raised his eyebrows, looking at John like a light bulb had just gone off in his brain. “Wait, are you attempting to _flirt_ with me? Not that I’m not flattered by the interest if you are, but…well, are you?” he asked incredulously, as if he couldn’t believe the words himself.

John’s eyes widened and he shook his head quickly, his face flushing. He hoped Sherlock couldn’t see the tips of his ears burning. “No, no of course not, I was—I was just curious, that’s all. Sorry, that was a personal question. I shouldn’t have asked.”

Sherlock still hadn’t moved his eyes away from John. “It’s fine. Like I said, I’m flattered. What about you, then? I’ve heard you’re quite popular with the gymnastics team, are you not? And almost every other female sport at this school? I hear you’ve made full rounds to at least three of the varsity girls teams in the past year,” Sherlock teased, smirking at John.

John laughed and shook his head, relieved that the awkward moment had passed. “Nope, I don’t have a girlfriend at the moment. I was dating a girl last semester, Sarah Sawyer, but…well, it just didn’t work out. Glad to see my reputation is still holding up though, even if it’s not doing much for me at the moment. So I’m unattached. Just like you,” he said the last sentence a little too cheerily, and Sherlock bit back a grin at John’s tone.

“So you are,” Sherlock replied quietly, looking out at the expanse of the library before them and not elaborating on his response.

After that, John allowed the subject to drop before it got anymore awkward or he ended up saying something he regretted, and instead chose to interview Sherlock about what subjects he was best at and what A Levels he planned on taking that year.

A few minutes later, as John was asking Sherlock if he could theoretically blow up the school with the amount of chemistry knowledge he possessed, a small voice interrupted their conversation.

“Is it alright if I sit with you?”

Both John and Sherlock turned their heads to see the quiet brunette, Molly Hooper, standing awkwardly between two bookshelves, clutching a sandwich and an orange and looking like she wanted nothing more than to disappear between the shelves. John had honestly forgotten that she was in detention with all of them.

“Of course, Molly. Please, join us. There’s plenty of room,” Sherlock said, the kind tone in his voice surprising John as he watched Sherlock grab a pillow and place it between the two of them.

Molly scurried to the pillow and sat down on it in a way that made her take up as little space as possible. She began peeling her orange without looking up at either of them.

“Molly is in my year,” Sherlock said to John, answering the question he didn’t ask. “We’ve had some classes together over the years. Molly, do you know John?”

The small girl glanced up at John quickly then returned to her task. “Not really. I mean, I’ve seen you around. Everyone knows who the captain of the rugby team is,” she said quietly without looking up.

John cleared his throat. “Well it’s nice to meet you, Molly,” he said kindly, smiling at her. She glanced up again and blushed when she saw the smile then started peeling the orange faster.

As Molly clearly wasn’t one for conversation, Sherlock picked up their conversation where they had left off and Molly sat between them in silence, eating her orange and slowly looking up at them more and more as the minutes passed.

“So how did you end up here today?” John asked her finally, unable to contain his curiosity.

Molly jumped slightly and looked up at him suddenly, as if shocked she was being addressed directly. “Um, I refused to do a public speaking presentation for a class…and my professor thought I was trying to disrespect her,” she squeaked, in a voice so quiet that John strained slightly to hear her.

“Bastards,” Sherlock muttered, shaking his head. “Giving a student as smart as you Saturday detention. One look at your GPA and they wouldn’t have thought you were disrespecting her. Unbelievable.”

Molly looked up at Sherlock timidly and gave him a small smile while blushing profusely.

“Don’t let that professor push you around, Molly,” he said to her sternly. “You’re better than her and you know it. And if she still wants to act like a bitch, I’ll take care of her for you.”

Molly bit her lip slightly and nodded while looking down at her lap and sitting on her hands.

Sherlock shrugged at John’s puzzled look. “I like Molly. She’s a sweet girl. A bit quiet and mousy, but not an idiot like most people in my year. She’s immensely tolerable compared to most people my age. Plus she’s helped me out on a few occasions.”

Just as John was about to ask for more details, he heard Sally’s voice from behind him.

“Alright, we only came up here because it was so dreadfully boring downstairs. As soon as lunch is over, we’re going back down before Lestrade comes back. Don’t think we showed up just for your glorious company,” Sally said, glaring at Sherlock and crossing her arms. Phillip stood behind her, looking unhappy as well but glancing around at the alcove curiously, just as John had done.

Sherlock grinned up at them and leaned to the right to grab two pillows, which he threw onto the floor a few feet away from him. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

Sally scowled at him but took a seat on a pillow anyway, and Phillip followed suit, sitting right next to her but about a foot away.

“Well isn’t this cozy?” Sherlock said cheerily after a few minutes of silence when no one appeared to be willing to start a new conversational topic.

“So did both of you decide on what uni you want to go to next year?” John asked, addressing Phillip and Sally before Sherlock said something sarcastic and offended either of them.

“I’m hoping for Cambridge, to study mathematics and possibly nuclear physics,” said Phillip, grinning. Clearly he jumped at any opportunity to tell anyone about his ambitions.  

John nodded and smiled. “Wow, Cambridge? That’s fantastic. And you, Sally?”

“Oh, I’m still looking at a few universities and discussing them with my parents, but I think it’s down to the University of Sheffield in England or the University of Stirling in Scotland to get a degree in journalism. I’d love to work for a paper like _The Guardian_ someday.”

“Very nice. I’m sure both of you will do brilliantly on the rest of your A Levels and get into those schools. Great choices,” John replied, smiling at them.

“What about you, John? Are you attending university or are you going to go straight to playing for England’s rugby team at the end of this year?” Sally asked teasingly.

John laughed. “I’m not that good at rugby, mate. I’d like to think that I’m decent, but nowhere near going professional. No, I was actually thinking about joining the army.”

“The military? Seriously?” said Phillip, looking doubtfully at John. “I don’t mean to be rude, but…why on earth would you want to do that?”

John shrugged, looking down at the carpet and pulling at a loose thread. “Well I want to be a doctor, and the military automatically pays for your training if you enlist and become an army doctor, and my family has always been tight on money so…why not do a few tours in Afghanistan if it means I get a chance to go to medical school? I can start working at a practice somewhere after I finish my service.”

“Because there’s always a high possibility that you’ll get shot and sent home, complete with a life-altering injury, PTSD, and a pathetically small army pension to show for your troubles,” Sherlock said from his spot across from John.

“Yeah well that’s a risk I’m willing to take. I don’t remember needing your approval to make my own life choices, thanks,” John snapped, moving his eyes up to meet Sherlock’s. He immediately regretted his irritated response when he saw the hurt look on Sherlock’s face. It was only there for a second and gone when Sherlock averted his eyes and shut his mouth, but John saw it nonetheless and suddenly felt like a massive dick for snapping at him. He suspected his sudden anger was a result of his father’s disapproval he had been hearing for the past few months about joining the army; John found his temper being sparked by anyone else who challenged him as a result of being fed up with such nagging disapproval for his life plans. He hated it when anyone thought him incapable for deciding anything himself.

“I…I apologize. I meant no offense. It’s very…brave of you to want to join the army. I’m sure you’ll make a fine army doctor, John,” Sherlock said quietly, shifting uncomfortably on his pillow.

“Thank you,” John replied, clearing his throat and avoiding Sherlock’s eyes.

  “Well I’m sure you have nothing to worry about when it comes to being shot at. The war’s practically over at this point anyway, yeah?” Sally offered, attempting to break the sudden awkwardness of the conversation.

John smiled weakly and nodded, still avoiding looking at Sherlock.

A moment later, Phillip started a new topic by asking if everyone had finished their essays, then their conversation began to flow easily into other subjects, from how horrible the school cafeteria food was to which teachers were the harshest graders. Even Sherlock joined the conversation again, offering up some select knowledge about affairs that were going on between some of the professors and one between a teacher and student, which was even more scandalous.

After a few minutes of all of them talking—everyone except for Molly, that is, who would simply laugh along with everyone and nod in agreement when necessary without making many comments of her own—it seemed like they were all apart of a strange group of friends. Even Sally appeared to forget that she was supposed to hate Sherlock and John was surprised to see her laugh at something he said.

It was like they had all suddenly formed this strange sort of camaraderie in Saturday detention, as if they had finally realized that there was nothing better to do than try to get along with each other, despite their differences. If they were stuck together for the entire day, a friendly conversation over lunch was the least they could do to help themselves get through the day with their sanity still in-tact.

But all of this suddenly came to a screeching halt when Sherlock carelessly made an offhand comment about Sally’s parents and the divorce they were currently going through, yet again.

“My family’s personal problems are none of your bloody business, Holmes,” she snapped at him.

Sherlock put his hands up in the air as if in surrender. “Sorry, sorry, that’s a touchy subject I’m sure. Princess Donovan can’t have her happy ending if her parents aren’t happy. That’s why you’re so eager to run off to university next year, so you can get away from their miserable lives and early morning shouting matches. I don’t blame you, really.”

“Shut up. Don’t act like your life is perfect either,” she said bitterly, narrowing her eyes at Sherlock, who was simply smiling innocently back at her.

“Oh I’m not pretending, sweetheart, you’re doing enough of that for the both of us. I don’t lie to myself in the mirror every morning like you do, Princess.”

“Right, because you’re too busy trying to cover up the needle marks on your arms so no one suspects you to be the junkie you are.” She grinned haughtily at the way his face fell at her words. “As if being a freak wasn’t enough, you’re a drug addict too.”

“I’ve been clean for three months,” Sherlock said through gritted teeth, his expression darkening.

“Keep on lying to yourself there, _sweetheart_ ,” Sally shot back. “One day someone’s going to find your body in some alleyway somewhere, and everyone is going to know exactly what happened. Your little habit obviously isn’t the secret you thought it was.”

“What part of ‘I’m clean’ don’t you understand? Please do your research before you try to insult me,” Sherlock snapped, his tone icy.

Sally looked mockingly offended as she smirked and leaned forward slightly on her pillow, sending Sherlock the harshest look she could manage. “Oh I’m sorry, I forgot, you obviously think you’re better than all of us. You’re the golden boy, ready for university at sixteen but choosing to stay behind and go through college with the rest of us commoners instead, gracing us with your very presence. But being a genius doesn’t mean a goddamn thing when you’re a seventeen year old heroin addict. What an achievement, Holmes! Is that going to get you into a university after next year? What grand plans do you have for your future with your fingers constantly twitching away while you’re waiting for your next fix? I hate to break it to you, but your clever deductions aren’t going to save you from an overdose. You’re a danger to everyone around you and you’ll never be anything else but a junkie.” She spat her last few insults then sat back again onto her pillow, crossing her arms and looking extremely pleased with herself.

Sherlock didn’t reply. After a few moments of silence, he stood up and glared at Sally menacingly before making his way quickly down a row of books without looking back.

“Sherlock! Wait, Sherlock!” John shouted after him as he saw him round the corner, walking quickly away from the group and deeper into the library.

He stood up, glaring down at Sally as he did so. “Now look what you’ve done. Why do you have to be so bloody awful sometimes?” he snapped, not sympathizing with the hurt look on her face. John didn’t even look back as he jogged after Sherlock, hoping he would be able to find him in the maze of shelves.

Thankfully Sherlock was just walking fast and not full out running, so John was able to just catch the back of his head at the end of the row and he tried to catch up to him, shouting his name again. Sherlock didn’t stop but continued walking, picking up his pace at the sound of John’s voice and refusing to turn around.

*  *  *

John continued to follow him through the endless shelves of books, settling for just following him rather than trying to get him to turn around. A few minutes later, when Sherlock turned quickly around a corner, John followed a few seconds after him to find him sitting one of the small sofas found all over the library that served as reading spaces for students. He sat with his knees pulled up into his chest, arms around them as he rested his chin on top of them. He wasn’t looking at John but staring straight ahead, his expression guarded and stony, mouth in a hard line.

“Hey,” John panted as he caught his breath and sunk down onto the sofa next to Sherlock. “What was that about?” he asked softly.

“I told you there was a reason why people stay away from me. Better start running while you still can. I’m dangerous,” Sherlock replied bitterly, still staring straight ahead.

John shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere. And you’re not dangerous. You’re my friend. Friends help each other. Talk to me, Sherlock.”

Sherlock looked over at John with red-rimmed eyes, and John smiled at him encouragingly. He exhaled and took a long moment before finally speaking, and when he did, it was in an icy tone.

“Have you ever done drugs before, John?”

John shook his head. “Um, no, not really. Besides drinking, I guess. I tried weed once and didn’t like it. I don’t even smoke regular cigarettes either.”

Sherlock smiled at John, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. When he continued speaking in a flat, emotionless voice, John saw a mix of emotions in those eyes: mostly pain, but fear, regret, and anger as well.

“That’s a shame. Sally was right about the marks on my arms,” he said, holding one out so John could get a better look. He saw faint puncture marks in the crook of his elbow where his veins stuck out. It looked like he had kept a bandage of some sort wrapped around it frequently. “I’m a recovering heroin addict, about three months clean now.”

John didn’t know what to say to that statement, so he simply looked at Sherlock with what he hoped was a neutral expression, patiently waiting for him to continue.

“I was sixteen when I first started using, in my last year of secondary school before college. My brother’s friend from uni gave me some heroin for a discount; I just wanted to try it. I did it because I was not only curious but bored out of my mind. I had been miserable for the entirety of my education experience after being bullied and ostracized for most of my childhood; the fact that I was just a few years away from finishing my public schooling and would be finally attending a university where I might actually be challenged for once and study what I wanted to study seemed too far away, too long to wait. Drugs seemed like a valid choice for something to pass the time.”

Sherlock closed his eyes and swallowed, tipping his head back against the top of the sofa and exhaling. “But I got hooked almost immediately, and once I was, I fell hard and fast. I went from attending most of my classes to attending none of them, my primary objective always to find out where my next fix was coming from. The things I did to get those drugs or money for the drugs…those are things I am not proud of, John. My brother found out and was furious. He kept going on about how I was an addict at the age of sixteen, that I was throwing my life away before it had even begun. He tried to forcibly get me clean, but he failed. I was too far gone and thought that the life of an addict was all I wanted to strive for. I could care less about what A Levels I was going to take or what university I planned to attend; the heroin was my only friend, and the only friend I wanted to have. Everything else seemed far too dull in retrospect, like the world was moving too slowly for me. The drugs had completely taken over my life.”

“What made you stop?” John asked quietly, unable to look away from Sherlock as he told his haunting tale.

Sherlock took a deep breath before he spoke. “One day I took a dose that I knew logically was far too much, but something in my drug-addled brain thought it might make the high last longer this time, that it would somehow prolong the happiness if it was at a higher dose than normal.” He cleared his throat and began to fumble with his hands. “That’s when Molly helped me. She saved my life, actually. I took the drugs here at the school, behind the bleachers by the track, on a day I had attempted to attend classes for once. She found me passed out while she was looking for a quiet spot to read her book at lunchtime, and she immediately took me to the hospital. I would have died right there if she hadn’t come across me then. And since then…since then I’ve been clean, as of February of this year. Obviously a near death experience like that was the wake-up call I needed.”

“Well shit,” was all John could say. He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to say, honestly. I’m so sorry.”

Sherlock let out a hollow laugh. “That’s what everyone says. I won’t hold it against you if you want to pretend you don’t know me anymore. That’s what most people do.”

John shook his head, shifting closer to Sherlock on the sofa and looking at him seriously. “Well it’s a good thing I’m not most people, then.”

Sherlock just stared at John, as if unable to comprehend what he had just said.

John sighed, exasperated. “You said you were clean, Sherlock. I believe you. Everyone fucks up in life, especially as teenagers, and it sounds like you’ve more than learned from your mistakes. So what’s the problem? Why would I want to run away?”

“Because everyone always leaves,” Sherlock said quietly, turning away from John. He stared off into space, his gaze reaching a far off place.

“I won’t,” John replied softly. He placed a hand on Sherlock’s upper arm and squeezed gently before dropping it on the couch between them. “I promise.”

At that, they let a blanket of silence fall between them, and neither of them spoke or looked at each other for a few minutes, as if they were both trying to process what they were hearing. Finally Sherlock sighed and readjusted his position on the sofa, tucking one leg under himself and turning slightly to face John. He bit his lip for a moment before he spoke again.

“I didn’t…I didn’t do heroin because I thought I was better than everyone else, like Sally said I did,” Sherlock said quietly, without looking at John. He was fumbling with his hands again, the slender fingers of one hand curling around the fingers on the other, turning his hands over again and again, obviously a nervous twitch. “I did the drugs because I couldn’t stand feeling the way I did each day. It wasn’t just because I was bored and felt like school was a waste of time for a mind like mine; it was because the drugs made me feel less lonely. It numbed the pain, if only temporarily, before I was left with the darkness of my own thoughts. Do you know what that’s like, to feel so alone and without purpose and like your life has no meaning whatsoever? So much so that you believe the world would go on effortlessly even if you weren’t in it? That no one would possibly care if you were gone?” Sherlock’s eyes began to fill with unexpected tears, and he looked away from John, wiping his eyes so he wouldn’t see.

John swallowed a growing lump in his throat at the absolute helplessness, an almost childlike innocence, in Sherlock’s eyes. “No,” John choked, his voice breaking a bit. He cleared his throat. “No, I don’t have any idea what that feels like, and I am sorry you do. But you’re wrong. I would care if you were gone. I’ve only just met you today and I already know that you are not only brilliant, but you are kind, and funny, and…and impossibly brave and strong for going through what you have and being still in one piece. You are one hell of a human being, Sherlock, and I count myself lucky to know you. And we are both still so young, I would hate to see you throw away all of the opportunity and promise of your future after we get out of this hell hole, just because you think you don’t matter.”

Sherlock sniffled, wiping his eyes again and looking at John with wide eyes. “You’re just making all of that up to make me feel better.”

John was blushing slightly, but he was on a roll and it was too late to stop now. “I swear I’m not. You are fantastic and brilliant and absolutely amazing.”

“No I’m not, John. I’m just a junkie, like Sally said.” He shook his head and gave John a small smile. “The pain and loneliness are both still there, every day. And I still feel like I’m hanging on by just a single thread, that just one wrong step will result in a relapse, that I could so easily slip up and throw all of this away if given the chance. I still smoke cigarettes regularly just to take the edge off.” He sighed and shook his head again. “So I thank you for taking pity on me, John, but I am none of those things you say I am. A junkie is all I’ll ever be.”

“You know, for being such a genius, you’re a complete idiot,” John said firmly, shaking his head in disbelief.

Then, before John knew what he was doing or could think it through completely, he was suddenly leaning forward on the sofa and kissing Sherlock. It was a messy, shaky and unsure kiss that wasn’t executed at all how he intended, his lips landing slightly off to the right on top of Sherlock’s and his hand resting awkwardly on one of Sherlock’s bare upper arms as he attempted to balance himself, and after a few seconds he pulled away.

“Oh my god,” he said, his eyes wide with the shock of what he had just done. Sherlock was sitting there with a slightly dazed expression on his face, his mouth open slightly, just staring at John. He blushed furiously. “I am so sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, it just happened and it was like an instinct or something and I—”

John was interrupted by Sherlock turning to face him fully, placing his arms around John’s neck and inching so close to him on the sofa that he was almost sitting in John’s lap. “I never told you to stop,” he whispered before closing the space between them once more, kissing John forcefully on the mouth.

John exhaled into Sherlock’s mouth and allowed himself to relax into the kiss, closing his eyes and snaking his arms behind Sherlock to wrap around his waist then parting his lips slightly to allow Sherlock’s insistent tongue to enter his mouth. He tightened his grip around Sherlock to pull him closer, feverishly moving his lips against the other boy’s like his life depended on it. Sherlock tasted warm and soft yet was rough and sexy at the same time, especially with the way his hands were beginning to wander up and down John’s torso as they kissed.

John pulled away and said breathlessly, “I don’t ever want to hear you talk about yourself like that again. You do matter. You matter to me. So shut up.”

At that, Sherlock smiled and nodded before leaning in to kiss John again.

After another minute of kissing, Sherlock finally pulled away for air, panting as he tried to catch his breath and looking at John like he was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He resumed his hungry lips on John’s again then shifted his hips forward slightly and positioned himself so he was straddling John’s hips while sitting in his lap. He grinded his hips into John’s, just hard enough to get a little friction between them, which only accelerated their feverish kissing further. John moaned quietly into Sherlock’s mouth at the movement and wrapped his arms around him tighter, as if he couldn’t get him close enough.

This passionate kissing went on for another few minutes or so, complete with some added hungry neck biting, not quite deep enough to leave a mark but still leaving both Sherlock and John gasping for air, as if the kissing couldn’t possibly satisfy either of them enough. The whole affair finally ended with Sherlock yanking himself away from John’s warm, gentle mouth, breathing heavily.

He turned his head away reluctantly from John’s when he tried to kiss him again, and John gave him a puzzled look. “What’s wrong?” He paused, looking down between them and noticing how obviously hard he was, even beneath his jeans. “Do you not want to?”

Sherlock sighed. He placed his arms around John’s neck again, stroking the back of his head gently with his thumb. “I do want to…just not right now.” He looked around them. “I mean…we’re in the library.”

“Please. You are the king of rule breaking,” John scoffed. He moved his hands down Sherlock’s back towards the seat of his jeans, cupping his arse and giving it a squeeze, making Sherlock squirm and shoot him an annoyed look. John just grinned up at him.

Sherlock laughed and shook his head. “Having sex in the library I’ve known since I was about twelve is where I draw the line.” He shuffled himself off of John’s lap and stood up, carefully readjusting his jeans and t-shirt. “Besides, we’ve only just met. I do have standards, John. Even for you.”

John laughed, also standing up and attempting to smooth out his hair and clothes. “You have a point. Most girls I usually take out on a date first before we even hook up.”

“Well it’s a good thing I’m not most girls,” Sherlock replied, smirking.

John laughed, taking a step closer to him. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s waist again, pulling them closer together. “You’re funny,” he said, standing on his tiptoes to kiss Sherlock’s lips again. “And a fantastic snog. I bet you’re an even better shag.”

“Down, boy. Control your hormones,” Sherlock shot back, unable to hold back a smile. He pecked John’s lips quickly, pausing to nibble gently on his lower lip before he pulled away. “I guess you’ll have to take me on a date first to find out,” he teased.

John exhaled and shook his head, wetting his lower lip with his tongue. “Keep doing that and we may not even make it to that date.”

Sherlock allowed John a few more kisses before reluctantly pulling away again. “As much as I would love to continue snogging you all day long, our hour is nearly up and Lestrade is going to be back in a few minutes to check on us.”

John groaned but nodded. “Fair enough. Better get going, then.” He surprised Sherlock by taking his hand in his, linking their fingers together loosely and beginning to lead them through the maze of shelves. Sherlock grinned as he walked behind John.

*  *  *

When they returned to the alcove where everyone else was, Sally immediately stood up from her pillow on the floor, a rueful expression on her face. She didn’t even appear to notice that John and Sherlock were holding hands (although both Phillip and Molly did and both of their eyes widened slightly) and didn’t hesitate to approach Sherlock directly.

“I’m sorry Sherlock, that was uncalled for. I didn’t mean…I didn’t mean to say those things. I let my temper get the better of me. I apologize,” she said, genuinely looking sorry for her actions.

Sherlock gave her a small smile and shrugged. “No harm done. I was being a prick and I knew it. Your reaction was completely warranted for what an asshole I was being.”

Sally smiled back, relieved, then outstretched her hand to Sherlock. “Well I won’t argue with that. Truce, then?”

Sherlock laughed a little then shook her hand, nodding. “Of course. And if it’s any consolation, I’m sorry your parents are divorcing. I know how hard that can be. You’re a smart girl too, you know. You don’t have to cheat to get good marks. And I’m sure you’ll get into the uni you want without even trying too hard.” He smiled again, a genuine smile that surprised John; who knew Sherlock Holmes would ever be sorry for insulting someone.

Sally smiled again and nodded. “Thank you. You’re pretty brilliant yourself.” Finally she looked down and noticed that John and Sherlock’s fingers were intertwined and she looked surprised but grinned up at them. “And I so called that the moment you started annoying John. Congrats. You two make a cute couple.”

John laughed and caught Sherlock’s eye, grinning back at him giddily.

With that, the five students returned back downstairs and everyone sat in their original seats. They were all seated for about a minute before Lestrade entered the room again and let them know that lunch was over and that they had two hours left.

As soon as he left, Sherlock got up from his seat and sat next to John. Molly followed suit and sat in the row in front of John, turning her chair around to face them, and a minute later Phillip and Sally joined them as well, and they passed the rest of the detention time talking and hanging out together as friends. John and Sherlock held hands under the desk the entire time and couldn’t stop sneaking secret glances at each other or nudging each other’s feet gently under the table.

*  *  *

Just before they reached the line of cars waiting to pick everyone up from their Saturday detention, John grabbed Sherlock and kissed him, not caring if the whole line of parents and siblings in the cars saw it. Sherlock smiled against John’s lips then melted into the kiss, placing his hands gently on John’s waist as John held his face in his hands.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” John said to him as he pulled away.

Sherlock nodded then leaned forward to kiss John once more. “Thank you. For today. For everything. You should get Saturday detention more often.”

John laughed, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t count on it. Maybe you’ll behave a bit better and avoid detention now because it means you won’t be able to spend as much time with me,” he teased.

Sherlock laughed. “Well played, Watson. I just might take you up on that offer.”

John kissed him quickly one last time before dropping his hands and taking a step back towards Harry’s car. “We still on for tomorrow night at Angelo’s?”

“Obviously,” Sherlock replied. “Seven o’clock, and don’t be late.”

John smiled. “I won’t be. Text me!” He then turned away from Sherlock after a little wave, still smiling all the way to the car.

“Did I just see what I thought I saw?” Harry asked him after he shut the door.

John just smiled at her. “If you mean was I just kissing Sherlock Holmes? Yes, yes I was. And tomorrow night we are going on a date.”

Harry raised her eyebrows, nodding slowly as she started up the car. “So I take it that Saturday detention went well then?”

John smiled. “Better than well. It was fantastic.”

He looked out the window and waved to Sherlock as they drove away, who was still standing in the same place and waving back at them, smiling at John.

If John had looked back through the rear window, he would have seen Sherlock walking across the parking lot towards the track, pumping a fist into the air in triumph.


End file.
